Sonnet for the Successfully Ended World

The world is new but just the same so far.
The all, the school, the nothing, every word
works as it always has, or does not --
I promise love forever, watch leaves fall,
see dead mother look out the bathroom mirror
and think, I need a haircut again so soon?

I look inside and mind wakes up --
the tree in the forest offers to fall again
and griefs drop capes and stand up straight.
At sixty six I'm two-thirds there,
a century or a beast from St. John's hell
old and new but just an ordinary man.

The dark seems cosmic, woowoo and pregnant
with unknown life as always -- time to wake the kids for school.